


Black eyed night

by Anonymous



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings, Gen, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: !!! ATTENTION SENSITIVE SUBJECT ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Brian tries to kill himself. He nearly succeeds.





	Black eyed night

The night had been good fun, but it was coming to an end. They were starting to get fans now, and Freddie loved it. Absolutely adored being showered with compliments and love. But the bars were closed now, and his friends were leaving. Still, there was something he wanted to do.

“I'm going to check on Brian. He's been kinda off these past weeks and he sounded awful on the phone.” He said, when he was saying goodbye to Mary, Roger and the fans the drummer was with. (John had gone home some time before).

“I'll come with you.” Roger said, surprising everyone, including himself.

“But Rog...”

He was really saying no to a night with hot women who adored him just to check on a friend? The truth was that he was quite worried about Brian, too. He used to fight him and Fred (and sometimes Deaky too) on everything before, and if he was completely honest Roger kind of enjoyed all that fighting. It made everything livelier, more important, more intense. Roger was convinced that it helped them be a better band.

But the past couple of weeks Brian had been more subdued, more quiet, almost too quiet. He did what he was told and never complained anymore, even stuff that was clearly baiting him to get angry. He hadn't come to rehearsals the last couple of days, claiming that he was sick. And now he didn't sound good on the phone...

It could be nothing, just Brian getting into one of his moods (Roger had known him for years. It happened... periodically) and maybe they didn't need to check on him, maybe he just had a cold and had been quiet because he didn't feel like talking. But the last song he'd turned in had been really fucking sad, and Roger knew that he wasn't going to be able to sleep properly until he knew that the guitarist was ok, same as Freddie.

Freddie too knew about Brian's depressive tendencies – the subject had come up more than once when they wrote music together (“Stop being so disconsolate and sorrowful, for god's sake!” “Sorry, Fred, it's just how I feel!” “You do? But darling, that's awful”) and he feared that this time it was worse, because Brian's “mood” was lasting longer. Freddie'd made sure to let him know that he was there for anything he needed, but also gave him some space, feeling that crowding the man was not the way to go. Still, he felt that he could do more, and that was why he was going to his place at this hour.

Maybe he shouldn't be going to his friend's house at this time of night, but something told him that Brian would still be awake. Some part of Freddie's brain (and Roger's too, that was why he'd tagged along) needed to see Brian, make sure he was whole and not bawling his eyes out in some corner of his house, or being consumed by fever because he was actually sick.

But the sight that greeted them when was much worse than anything they could ever imagined.

When they arrived, the door wasn't properly locked, and no one was replying to their knocking. Odd.

“Brian, dear? Where are you?”

Freddie went to the bedroom, hoping to find Brian asleep, maybe in a sleep so deep that he hadn't heard them, maybe clutching a plushie or something nice and cute like that, although he was almost certain that it wouldn't happen. There was nobody on the bed. Instead, he found a note.

Freddie turned on the light, picked it up. It was a list of possible new guitarists. Strange, very strange. Why would they need a new guitarist? They had him, and he was better than any of these guys. Then he turned the note around, and there were only three words.

 

“ _I'm sorry._

 

_Goodbye”_

 

And then Freddie heard a high pitched “NO!” coming from the bathroom.

Roger thought that he had seen some light coming from the bathroom, so he went to check it out. Maybe Brian was just having a late night bath and hadn't heard them, maybe he was covered in bubbles and that was the whole issue. Maybe they worried over nothing. Alas, they'd had good cause to worry. When Roger opened the door, he gasped as he saw the horror.

Brian was thrown on the floor, on top of a bunch of towels, brightly stained red. His white tee was completely drenched in crimsom too, from two deep gashes that startied in his wrists but went to a big part of both his forearms, although the one in the left was longer and deeper.

“NO!”

Roger immediately took another towel and tried to stop the bleeding, putting pressure on the wound as he'd always been instructed. He also put Brian's non-responsive head on his lap, tried to wake him.

Freddie got there and was immediately horrified too.

“Get an ambulance.” Roger managed to croak out, even though he felt that he had no voice anymore.

“Brian, hey.. Come back, wake up... don't go.”

But Brian wasn't waking up and Roger was getting drenched in blood too, because there was a godamn pool on the floor and it was covering everything... The fact that Brian had done this to himself willingly only made everything hurt more. This felt the worst dream he'd ever had, and Roger just wished he could wake up.

“They'll be here any minute. I told them to hurry the hell up, that it's life or death.” Freddie said, coming back.

Roger looked absolutely shattered, stained everywhere with Brian's blood and cradling the curly head gently.

Freddie knelt and applied pressure on Brian's right arm, although that seemed to have stopped bleeding. Surely he started with his dominant hand and by the time he got to the other he had an arm sliced in half, making everything more difficult. Still, it took resolve and a lot of self-hatred to do this kind of thing.

Roger kept trying to rouse Brian, to get a reaction, something, but got no result. Every time he called his friend's name and go nothing, each time it hurt more. Brian was too pale, his breathing was slow and shallow, he... he was dying. And maybe it was what he wanted, but Roger couldn't even bear the thought.

Freddie didn't want to think about it, just wondering where was that damn ambulance and how much time it could take those people to get her, he had told them that this was an emergency, and to be fucking quickest they could manage, hell, they could break speed limits and all, they were a damned ambulance, someone's life was in the balance and it was the fucking middle of the night...

Then they arrived, moving fast and very quickly getting the gurney and all their medical gadgets out, and practically the hardest thing was untangling Roger from Brian, who couldn't let go. Roger's face was now crossed by tears, and his eyes were nailed to that gurney that was quickly getting away.

He punched a wall, making a nice hole on Brian's flat's living room.

“WE SHOULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING! We knew something was wrong, that's why we came! And what did we do? Ask if he was okay, believe him when he said he was. And now...”

“Laying blame helps no one. We just have to... hope for the best and be more careful with him in the future.”

Roger frowned.

“ What's that? FRED, WHAT'S THAT ON YOUR HAND?”

Freddie's voice broke as he said

“The note. His goodbye note.”

Roger couldn't handle it anymore, maybe it was the drinks he had before or all the blood... just this whole situation, but he ran to the kitchen sink (he would never be able to go to that bathroom again) and threw up. And then fell on the floor and sobbed. Freddie embraced him, hard, also needing to feel someone else's contact, warmth, another living creature near him. This was too horrible, too painful. They stayed like that for a while, Roger crying and cursing himself, Freddie trying to focus on Roger, his breathing, his sounds, to try and not think about...

“We should get to the hospital.”

Hopefully they would get good news and they wouldn't have to be trapped in this horror anymore. The doctors would tell them that Brian was going to be okay, and that he just needed to rest for a bit. It would be tough, but Brain would be out of danger, and somebody would be there to watch that he didn't try again. They would be able to breathe.

But when they got there all they got was a “we don't know anything yet. Doctors will inform you when he's stable.”

And they were left there, in their blood-stained party outfits, waiting for any update on their friend. Their friend, who had nearly lost his life that night. Their friend who had wanted to die.

“Do you think he'll be ok, Fred?” Roger asked, with barely a thread of voice.

“Of course he will. He has to.”

But the truth was that he didn't know. There had been so much blood, and Freddie had heard of people whose heart had stopped from bloodloss before they got a transfusion. And Brian was skinny, so pale... He seemed fragile, breakable. Someone with a sign that said “handle with care”. And they hadn't excelled at that, had they? The gloomy thought that Brian may already be dead crossed Freddie's mind, and it wasn't a pleasant experience.

Maybe they would continue with the band with another guitarist (it had been practically Brian's dying wish to find someone else, right?) but it wouldn't be the same, it could never be the same, and they would forever be haunted by the man they lost. Haunted by his presence, his strong opinions, his unparalleled solos and his soft voice, that was no longer there.

No one would ever measure up to Brian, they wouldn't even come close. No one ever be as talented and unique as Brian had been, no one would be as inteligent and sensitive... He had been one of a kind, and they had been lucky to meet him, to work with him. They should have appreciated him more, looked after him better, seen the warning signs, done something.

“You all right, Rog?” Freddie asked, trying to get out of his head, of his already grieving thoughts.

Roger's eyes ween't looking anywhere and his face was a mess of tears and blood.

“...No.” Roger wondered if he would ever be all right again after being the one to find Brian... like that.

“Why don't you go clean your face? Maybe it'll clear your thoughts.”

The next morning John came. They tried getting a hold of Brian's parents but they weren't picking up, as they were visiting some relatives. John was saddened by the news but not completely shocked. He regretted not having reached out, not having done something more. It was awful, that Brian would feel so bad that he hurt himself like that. If Freddie and Roger hadn't decided to check on him...If they had been home, or stayed with their girlfriends...

Brian would have died. Killed himself.

They were allowed to see a barely awake Brian just after lunch. He had both forearms covered in bandages and looked weak and dazed. He wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, or the strength.

Freddie sat on a chair next to the bed, and positioned himself in front of Brian.. He'd been thinking about what he would say to his friend if he woke up all night, and wanted to be clear and coherent, and wanted Brian to listen and to believe him.

“You don't have to say anything, dear, just listen to me. Know that we are going to be with you, we will look after you while you recover, no matter how long it takes. We will get you food, and medication and make sure you sleep. The band can wait, you and your health is more important than any song. You matter, so much to us, Brian, you have no idea.

We're sorry that you were trapped in this darkness and we didn't do anything to get you out. I'm sorry that when you were thinking of doing horrible things to yourself you were alone, I'm sorry. I hate that you were suffering and I just dismissed it as one of your “moods”. It was wrong and I regret it. But we will look after you better, won't we, boys? We will. I promise.

But if you ever feel like this, please, you have to tell somebody. It doesn't have to be us, but know that if you called me saying you needed help I would drop everything. Because we want to help, because you are part of our lives, part of our band, part of everything that we are and that we do. And it's you, and only you, who can be everything that you are.

You left a list of new guitarists. That hurts, Brian. You're not replaceable, we can't just get someone else. It's you we want and it's you we need. No matter what incredible other musicians are out there, they can never be Brian May. They'll never be good enough, not for us.

I am really hoping that you didn't think nobody would care if you were gone, because that couldn't be further from the truth. We were devastated, Brian, agonizing over the thought that we might lose you, that we could have been too late. Roger nearly had a nervous breakdown. And I... If we lost you like this, in such a horrible way... I felt that I would never really be happy again. Not really.

I can understand that right now everything's a struggle and that you... well, you don't want to live, but that feeling won't last forever. Just don't hurt yourself. You'll manage to get out of this darkness, you'll get to enjoy life. Give yourself the chance to find happiness and deprive us of your company, don't deprive the world of all you are. We love you, Brian. Please, don't hurt yourself. Don't leave us.”

For a moment, Brian felt he couldn't breathe. This was too much, too overwhelming, too many emotions, too much to express in words. But there were the eyes of his bad mates around him, looking at him with love and concern and grateful that he hadn't managed to kill himself properly.

He mouthed a soft, soundless thank you, and Roger squeezed his hand, and Freddie smiled.

Last night Brian had come absolutely undone, but because they'd found him... He had the chance to start rebuilding himself again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was recently reminded of Nick Drake and how soon he was gone. Thought of what many more things he could have done if he hadn't... But other people had better endings.
> 
> Well, this is my way of a happy ending. 
> 
> Any positive feedback would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
